Flume
by Ready To Flyxxx
Summary: Tamaki is a prince, and he keeps up the facade as long as he has an audience, but when the curtains close, he is just a boy who has lost his mother. Tamaki centric. Mentions of other club members.


_**I am my mother's only one/  
It's enough**_

The windows bleed colors of pinks and yellows and oranges: ink blots that stain the walls of the room and dance across his fingertips in tiny moving parts. The ivory keys his fingers press against know his touch better than a lover, and Tamaki lets the room be encased in sound.

Raw sound. Sensational, heart thrumming, _emboldening_ sound that latches onto one's feelings and doesn't let go. It demands to be listened to. It begs for emotion - those who hear it should be moved to tears.

Because anything less would be criminal.

He will play for hours. He will forgo the temptations of exploring his grounds, or of indulging in fantasies and playing with kids. He will practice and practice until his fingers cramp and his back aches, because when he plays, his mother listens; his mother smiles.

And there is nothing more beautiful than a woman's smile.

 _ **I wear my garment so it shows/  
Now you know**_

" _Mon cherie_ ," her words reach toward him, wrap around him like a cool breeze, " _j'espère que tu es heureux_."

 _I am happy_ , Tamaki thinks, drinking in the sight of his mother: her blonde hair and violet eyes, at the way her gentle smile curves into a crescent moon - these are lineaments that link the two of them together. He is happy, because she is with him, by his side, despite her illness, despite her tiredness, _despite the two of them being alone alone alone in this world._ They have each other, and that's all Tamaki needs.

So he tells her this, that he's happy, and his days are filled with making sure his mother feels the same. They drink tea together in cups of fine china, looking out toward sunny skies and green foliage that lie behind their large double doors. They dine on bread and cheeses, on _gratins_ and big pots of _cassoulet,_ and on a million different tartes, _fait maison._ He takes her on walks and strolls and holds a parasol for her to keep the sun out of her eyes, and picks flowers from their garden to pin in her hair. He studies for her. He takes up literature and poetry, geography and French revolutionary history, and he learns Japanese, a bit of German too. He plays the piano, _constantly_ , because that's what she enjoys the most.

He gives her his life, because she was generous enough to give it to him in the first place, and where would he be without her?

Nowhere. He'd be alone.

So he's happy. Happy happy happy.

 _ **Only love is all maroon**_

Tamaki is a gentleman.

His grandmother's eyes are cold and calculating. They regard him lowly, and where there should be pity or compassion hidden within their glassy interiors, all Tamaki sees is disgust. Spite. Discontent. Each one is a well placed mine, and he will trip and fumble through every one.

His hands shake, but he puts on a facade. "My dearest and most beautiful grandmother! You are looking well today." The shakiness of his voice betrays the nervousness he feels.

"Don't patronize me," she wheezes out, and walks purposely toward his mother. Tamaki stands still, his smile never fading.

"But of course. Anything for you grandmother dear."

He believes all women are beautiful, even his grandmother. As a gentleman, Tamaki doesn't let himself forget this.

Even when her wrinkled mouth spills out words of leaving forever, and never will you see your mother again, and _it serves your right you good for nothing hāfu._

Even when she breaks their hearts.

 _ **Gluey feathers on a flume**_

When selecting members for his host club, Tamaki picks boys that he feels are in need of help.

Sure, he could go with the fact that these students are all handsome, wealthy, and have personalities that can be molded into perfect archetypes for a female fantasy, but that is simply a bonus step in the grand scheme of things. Really, honestly and truthfully, Tamaki's decisions are made concrete after simply observing them in their natural habitats - it is this, he stresses, not stalking - and coming to the conclusion that all of them seem to be completely and utterly alone.

Hunny-senpai, small in stature but big in heart, whose skills in combat are nothing short of precocious, lives in a world where strength is revered and signs of weakness stomped out. His own personality is opposed, and because of this, the young man is forced to erase every aspect of what makes Mitsukuni Haninozuka, Hunny Haninozuka. He is the only one in his family who will never quite grasp the concept of "manhood," at least not the way his father projects it. In this sense, he is ostracized. Tamaki knows how it feels not to be accepted.

And then there is Mori-senpai, bound by an unspoken code of honor and servitude, who will follow Haninozuka through hell and fire and anything in between. Tamaki sees the way his dark eyes shine with respect and admiration for his small cousin, and also knows that seeing Haninozuka be forced into a niche of discipline and tough facades, is slowly killing him. It is in this that Tamaki sees himself: a want to protect his loved ones. There is also this: without Hunny-senpai, Mori-senpai would be nothing.

The twins are another variable in Tamaki's experiment - not two, but one. How fitting it would seem, for the two act as a whole, formulating their demeanors and proximities in tandem with one another. Hikaru and Kaoru are never separated, never angled away; they place their heavy lidded eyes ahead of them and turn their shoulders to match that direction. It is a game for them, the life they lead. Guess which one is which? Is that your final answer? Are you sure? Doubt me, doubt us, because you'll always doubt yourself. Tamaki however, he sees the truth. They are a perfect paradox, wanting to be told apart, and yet not wanting it at the same time. They are afraid: afraid that if someone does distinguish which twin is which, it won't last. Someone is bound to make a mistake one day. What is the point of getting close to anyone when in the end, they'll never see them for who they truly are? The two of them have no one but each other. Tamaki understands...he has no one but himself.

Finally, there is Kyoya: pragmatic and calculative, deadly in his intelligence and in his looks. He has shown kindness, albeit begrudgingly at times, to Tamaki and others, a concern too, when it benefits him. He is the youngest son in the Ootori family, the third if you will, and while he remains every bit of the cool and collective prodigy his father expects him to be, on the inside, Kyoya is screaming. The weight of responsibility threatens to crush him. He wants more out of his situation - why should he settle for anything less than his father's heir when people like Tamaki are given it on a silver plate? Truthfully, Tamaki will most likely never become his father's heir, not when his grandmother looks at him and sees only tainted blood, but Kyoya doesn't realize this. Not at first. The two of them aren't so different after all.

Tamaki offers them chances. Join the host club and in exchange you will be free. To be yourself, to broaden your horizon, to explore something greater than what your parents offer you. How lonely can we be when we have each other?

His friends are crucial pieces in the path he paves for himself, and while his ideals are naive and perhaps a bit selfish, the truth is, all he wants is a chance to help others, and in doing so, help himself.

Tamaki wants to be better.

 _ **Sky is womb and she's the moon**_

There are roses blooming in the garden maze, and Tamaki laces his fingertips with Haruhi's and takes of, laughing breathlessly. "Come on Haruhi!" he yells over his shoulder _ **.**_ The girl stumbles, protesting as always, but follows as he takes her to the hiding place he has claimed for just the two of them. He adores the commoner game of kick the can, just as he adores the girl next to him, in all her boyish ways. He leads her to a sitting position on a stone bench underneath an arch of deep red flowers, and giving her his most charming of smiles, places himself beside her.

He values these times, because it is just the two of them, walls down and masks off. He will tell her stories of his mother and his home in France, and he will whisper words to her in his native tongue, because she won't understand (he will get away with saying _tu es tellement belle ma biche,_ and _je t'aimerai toujours_ because of this). He will picture this moment in his mind a million times after, at the way her large doe eyes look at him, look _through_ him, the way her head tilts and the soft rose of her cheeks, her delicate frame and her soft brown hair. He tends to embellish the story sometimes, imagining her hands pulling him toward her, _closer closer._ He'll be engulfed by her touch. He'll drown in her.

He loves her like a daughter, he thinks. After all, he yearns to protect her, to give her anything she desires, if she would only just ask - he'd worship her if she'd let him. She's precious to him. The thought of another man or woman touching her the way he does, touching her period, makes his blood boil. He is selfish when it comes to her in this way, but he'll never admit it.

In reality, Tamaki loves her like a lover, but doesn't understand this, not yet. All he knows is he is drawn to her. She is understanding, accepting, unbiased; she does not take, she gives, and understands the value of family; she is caring and helpful, and unquestionably compassionate.

She is like his mother, sometimes - a woman who would never judge her silly son with his naive ideals and romantic mind - but his mother is someone Tamaki had to leave. The thought of leaving Haruhi hurts him in ways he can't fathom.

He loves her he loves her he loves her: like a daughter - like a son - like a friend - like she is his whole world. He will dream of her at least five times a week.

And in his dreams she will hold her hand out for him to take.

 _ **I am my mother on the wall, with us all**_

Tamaki thinks sometimes, that his father's coldness toward him derives from the loss of their mother.

Perhaps his mother isn't lost, but when she disappears from their radars somewhere in France, and she isn't exactly capable of being found, it sure feels like it. So really, his father must blame him, because his move to Japan is the real reason his mother - his father's one true love - is gone.

He thinks it was a mistake he was born, and when his father looks at him - sees blonde hair and dreamer's eyes - he must fill with grief. Tamaki is a walking reminder; a living memory of his mother's legacy.

A breathing photograph.

 _ **I move in water, shore to shore/  
Nothing's more**_

Tamaki was raised knowing how to respect women.

It is an art, he thinks, pouring a cup of tea for his latest customer, to appreciate the opposite sex. After all, women can be so different. Their tastes vary, and to be able to fit one's self in accordance to these tastes is a challenge and a privilege. After all, Tamaki finds all women beautiful.

However, it is not because they are beautiful that they deserve this attention, no no no, it is because of their positions in high society. At all times they must hold themselves upright, prim and proper, must be graceful in their countenance and in the words that they speak. They must stand beside a man and hold their ruby lips in a smile. They must hold their tongues, like children at times, and must bend their whims and wishes to fit a more practical and respectable lifestyle. Tamaki knows this, because he has viewed the academy's curriculum, has seen what classes are (stressed) suggested for their female students. He has seen the high collared dresses that flow to the floor, with their sensible brown shoes that peek out at times underneath the muted yellow fabric. He has seen the times when the more daring of girls will venture out toward the balconies in hopes that they might loosen their bodices for a breath of fresh air.

He knows their minds are turned in specific directions by their families, never mind the aptitude they show in certain courses. Forget their cunning and intelligence, or their willingness to learn and achieve. They are trapped, like birds.

So Tamaki gives them a chance to live out their own fantasies: a break in the course of their pre-planned life. He gives them tea parties and afternoon strolls in the park, and his words, flowery and poetic, which he will use to instill bouts of confidence within them, promises of their worth and beauty. He gives them hands to hold, gives them ears to listen to, and in a roundabout way, friends. Yes, friends: he gives them Mori and Hunny - senpai, the twins and Kyoya, even his dearest Haruhi. He gives them an outlet to spend their time, which they have too much of, and what better way to spend your days than with boys who also have too much time on their hands?

He is used to serving lovely ladies, having spent his childhood dotting on his mother, and although he is free of that responsibility, he finds that he rather likes the activity. He just wants to make them smile.

Because most of them don't smile. Not ones that reach their eyes, anyway.

 **Only love is all maroon/** **La** **pping lakes like leery loons**

He almost marries that woman, _mademoiselle eclair._

It is tempting, so very tempting. What better way to leave his selfish ways behind, to stop being a burden on his friends, to finally earn some respect from his grandmother?

To finally see his mother.

It is tempting, and if not for his friends, for _Haruhi_ (an angel with wings holding her hand toward him), it would happen.

It doesn't happen, luckily, but sometimes he wonders what would have become of him if he did.

 _ **Leaving rope burns/  
Reddish ruse**_

Tamaki lies in his king size bed and thinks, as he always does, that it is much too big. His room too. He is after all, just one person, and while he is accustomed to such a lavish lifestyle, lately it all seems so...unimportant.

He doesn't want a large bed.

He doesn't want a room that fills with darkness so easily, a room that he doesn't even have enough possessions to fill properly.

He doesn't want to inherit his father's company, the estate, or any of his assets. They aren't his. They aren't _him._

He just wants to not feel so...empty.

It's at night where he feels most alone, when everyone he cares for is asleep and his only companion is his thoughts. Maybe he'll be lucky and fall asleep early: dreams are where he goes to escape. They are blissful, because in dreams, he never left his mother. In dreams, Kyoya gets praise from his father, Hunny-senpai eats a mountain of cake and Mori-senpai smiles. In dreams, Hikaru and Kaoru will scheme and prank and open themselves up for others, and his sweet sweet Haruhi is a successful lawyer.

In his dreams...everything ends too quickly, and Tamaki wakes up with watery eyes and the imprint of happiness falling through his fingertips like grains of sand. He will smash his face into his pillow, and try to breathe, because everyday it gets harder to do.

Then he will go to school, plaster on his princely act, and smile.

"Welcome to the Host Club."

.

.

.

 _Fin._

 _(A/N): Thank you for reading! This is my first story for OHSHC and I am very excited about that fact, because after finishing the anime, I had fallen in love. Originally, I wanted to do a piece centered on Haruhi, but after mulling it over, felt like a story on Tamaki would be quite interesting, especially since his character is so much more than a pampered rich boy. He is every bit the lonely prince Renge tried pegging him as. I also think he is a sweetheart, and who doesn't love it when he blushes!?_

Anyway, the words in bold are lyrics from a song called Flume by Bon Iver. I sincerely suggest you listen to it, as it is a beautiful song. It also fits quite well with Tamaki's relationship with his mother.

Thanks once again and take care.


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